


thin ice

by melodious (pen_light)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Yuri, Yuri centric, an emotional impulsive thing i wrote before studying rip, angst and angst, idk what else to tag lol, no one is mentioned? only like vituuri once, yuri dealing with himself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 12:31:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8714059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pen_light/pseuds/melodious
Summary: so young. so incredibly young. so much potential. so much risk. count your blessings, child. count your curses, child.





	

**Author's Note:**

> \- emotionally jotted down last week (?)
> 
> \- emotionally written on impulse after today's new episode
> 
> \- wrote this right before studying lol idk how it is
> 
> \- lowercase intended
> 
> \- new style experiment?
> 
> \- one thing to know before reading, yuri is the main source of money for his family since junior division (was on the wikia lol and tumblr)

so young. so incredibly young.

so much potential. so much risk.

count your blessings, child. count your curses, child.

so young. so incredibly young.

a child.

that was yuri plisetsky.

a child, a child of dreams, smiles, ignorance, and bright eyes that shimmered and glittered in pure innocence.

a child, a child of talent, who rapidly learned, walking over the obstacles as if they were mere rocks, climbing over leaderboards as if they were a playground's jungle gym, dominating the kids sports division as if it were a silly game.

a child, a child of growth that soon turned into a boy, a young boy.

a boy, a young boy learning, masks disappearing from the faces of every construct he believed as a kid, the realization of his, his family's, and the world's statuses slapping him across his face.

a boy, a young boy earning, money clouding his family environment as the financial crisis deepened, the vibrant excitement for his success lost in the desperation for survival.

a boy, a young boy falling, weighed down from each and every direction, causing a limp in his thoughts—an irritation bound to reach a limit, resulting in a violent, self deteriorating lashing out.

protection.

he needed protection. from the world, from the reality, from himself.

ice.

the very ice he danced with was tough. tough enough to withstand him. tough enough to withstand the him with the weight on his shoulders.

ice.

he became ice.

yuri plisetsky was an ice sculpture. he was beauty and grace shielded by a frozen guard, a chilled front.

ice.

the ice became his refuge. the ice became his everything.

days passed, times flew, damage was done, but yuri grew. the ice thickened. the ice spread to his core.

he never expected it to come. he never expected the storm to hit.

it spiraled into his life without any warning. yuri never accounted for the calm before the storm. his senior debut stung him from deep within, a small scratch etched in his heart.

it was the first of them all.

and then came yuuri, and victor, and the grand prix finals, and—

the storm strengthened.

the rain pelted like acid drops at the ice.

the acid sizzled.

the ice melted.

layers fell off.

yuri tightly tied the laces on his stakes, the bind almost restricting, but not quite. a firm hold, a support.

yuri stood on the blades, posture poised, body graceful, mind suffocated.

the rain from the sky fell lightly on his face, the droplets rolling off of his features and dropping from the tip of his nose.

yuri breathed out. his breath was visible. it was cold. but not cold enough for the ice.

clad in his training gear, yuri stepped out onto the thin ice. he glided, far into the middle of the lake.

the sheet of ice was thin. thin enough that yuri could see the roaring darkness underneath the white barrier. the horrors of the water below called to him, and he stared at them. a reflection. yuri looked at his reflection in the black tempest underneath. there was no difference. between him and the lake, there was no difference.

yuri danced. a click of the blades and he was twirling in the air. a scrape of frozen shavings and he was flying. a deep breath in and he was soaring across the ice.

euphoria. yuri felt euphoric. the light rain droplets bounced off of him, glinting in the faint lighting of the sky. an angelic innocence surrounded him, and suddenly, he was a child again.

a smile, a laugh, a foolish move, a useless spin, and he was a child again.

this was what he had lost. his innocent desire was stained, and this was what he ended up losing. a child. he had lost a child.

suddenly, recent memories flashed in his mind. he stumbled. the stage lights blinded. he fell.

a flaw. the child disappeared and the boy returned. a flaw. flaws were unacceptable.

yuri stood up.

the fissure deep within pained.

a hiss shot through the ice nearby.

yuri shook. he skated farther into the ice.

ice. he had to become ice again.

the fear chased him.

he couldn't break. he couldn't afford to break.

he was crashing. ice with ice didn't work.

the storm thickened. the ice thinned.

yuri tore through the surface of the lake, reaching the center. the music in his head rang louder and louder.

he spun on the his right foot, left foot in his hand. arm outstretched, yuri stared tearfully at the sky above. the clouds greeted him with a delightful barrage of raindrops.

the drops bounced off of him again, this time illuminating his sullen face, highlighting the shadows present, their force pushing him further down.

yuri couldn't afford to break.

know why?

because, when the fracture grows, yuri will fall down. everything will fall down. down, down into the screams of the abyss waiting for him, submerging him in his waiting, hungry monsters.

yuri closed his eyes, waiting for the worst to come.

 

such a shame.

 

the ice was broken. an irreversible injury. a fatal casualty.

 

such a shame, isn't it?

 

so young, so incredibly young.

so much potential. so much risk.

a blessed beauty with a cursed cost.

 

 

that was yuri plisetsky.

 

 

 

a thin ice sculpture ready to shatter. 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> yuri plisetsky my son plz love him


End file.
